


A Collection of Drabbles

by takemetoyourglory



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetoyourglory/pseuds/takemetoyourglory





	1. Stung

The pain spread from his navel all the way up his spine until the white light forming at the base of his vision began to blind him. He could hear a faint pounding, but suddenly the white turned to scarlet and then black. His eyes glued shut as his back hit the windowsill. His waistcoat was drenched and he couldn’t tell if it was sweat or something else but he couldn’t will his eyelids open to check. His weight seemed to leave him, and the pain and pressure that had permeated his torso shifted into a warmth. Last, he felt the heaviness of something limp in his hand disappear.

Grantaire.

Now feeling light, Enjolras blinked a few times and tried to regain his balance. He looked down at the ground, just inches from where a bloody body sprawled against the wall. His bloody body. 

And draped across his feet lay the disillusioned cynic, Grantaire, the man who had asked permission to die with him. All this time, Enjolras had thought that he cared for nothing, that he believed in nothing. Anyone who spent his time drinking his life away couldn’t be counted on for anything, right? How many times had Grantaire failed a simple task…and yet, Enjolras couldn’t help but think of an offhand comment the wild cynic had once made.

“I believe in you. “

And it finally hit the blond leader looking down at the two crumpled bodies:

They had both died for something that they believed in.


	2. Emergency

In. Out. In. Out. It’s okay. It will be okay. Enjolras whispered to himself. He held his arms tight around his knees as he attempted to keep his breathing steady. The phone lay open next to him, the call still going. Neither sibling had hung up yet. They weren’t close, but being able to hear each other’s breathing seemed to help. Finally Enjolras reached up and pressed the End Call button. He stretched his hands out, letting the blood run back through them. He had never been close to his family, but his Aunt Jane had always been someone he could talk to. She gave him his first book on the French Revolution, she brought him to his first rally. She understood when he left. 

And now she was gone. Taken away forever, in an instant, by a distracted trucker and a flipped semi. Enjolras had dealt with many things, but death was not one of them. He tried to think about who he could talk to about this. Research, the one constant in his life. he needed someone else; this was something he couldn’t bear by himself. Not his parents; they were probably the ones who had asked Scott to call him, so that they wouldn’t have to. He scrolled down his contact list, trying to figure out who he could call. All of his friends had dealt with their fair share of grief, but as Enjolras looked down at the names, he realized there was only one person that he really wanted there with him. Not to talk, just to be near, to sit with. 

Enjolras hesitated before scrolling down to the contact. All of his other friends were out having fun, but he knew that this man was probably just sitting at home painting, or out drinking. He squeezed his eyes tight and pressed down on the call button. He swallowed his tears and tried to keep his voice steady. 

“Grantaire, I really need you right now.” 

******

“You know…When Alicia died, I thought,” Grantaire sucked in a breath, “I thought that I was going to die. I felt pain from the tip of my toes all the way into my temples. I wanted to kill myself. I just couldn’t deal. I mean, this was my baby sister. I had protected her from our dad and from the world but I couldn’t protect her from a fucking aneurysm ” He glanced over towards Enjolras, eyes rimmed red, who sat on the floor with his head resting on the bed. Grantaire hadn’t been to Enjolras’ dorm before. In fact, he hadn’t even really considered them to be good friends before, which was why he voice practically jumped an octave when Enjolras had called him earlier in the night. 

“Grantaire I need you right now” 

“I’ll be there in five minutes” 

Really, he had gotten there in four, and found the god-like leader, always so strong in his convictions, curled up on the floor next to his bed, his fingernails bitten down. 

“I…I don’t know what to do Grantaire, she was my only real family…” His words trailed off as he attempted to hold back a sob. 

Grantaire took his hand and held it tight, expecting Enjolras to pull away. Instead the boy moved closer and closed his eyes. He lay still.

“Just let it all out Enjolras. everything. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” 

Enjolras looked up at the disheveled boy next to him. He had probably been in the middle of doing something, painting most likely, based on the fresh splotches of red and yellow that

littered his denim button up. He hesitated. Sharing things wasn’t really his forte; he didn’t want to dwell on the past. But he had called Grantaire here for a reason right? He took a another deep breath before beginning to talk. 

Grantaire stayed quiet while Enjolras spoke of his family, of his aunt, even of death itself, just keeping his hand steadily in the other boy’s and squeezing lightly when he seemed to falter. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but he could tell that Enjolras needed something he would never ask for. Grantaire reached over and pulled Enjolras into a firm hug, and as his arms enveloped the boy, he could feel a tension being released. A wet mark spread on his shoulder, as Enjolras’ words began to fade and turn into outright sobs. 

Grantaire held him tighter.


	3. Bitter

“Why do you even give a fuck about me Apollo?” Grantaire’s ragged voice rang out through the hallway and Enjolras grimaced at the name. “Leave me alone okay? I will drink myself to fucking death if I want to. And there is nothing you can do about it because it’s my life and I am a free person. You’re all for freedom right?” He sneered. 

Enjolras almost turned away right then, his cheeks burning red. Instead. he fought the impulse and kept a controlled voice. “Grantaire, it is two in the morning. You are drunk. Please just come inside my dorm and we can talk.” 

“Oh, we can talk, or you can lecture me on how I am ruining my life, ruining my potential. On how I am such a fucking horrible person.” Grantaire spat at him. 

Enjolras took a look at the disheveled man in front of him. He wanted to surge forward and grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he realized his worth. He wanted to scream at him until he understood. He wanted to kiss him until their lips were raw and Grantaire was struck silent. Instead, he settled for grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the dorm. 

“Grantaire when will you realize that I care about you? We’ve been together for months. When will you understand that I don’t want anyone else?” Enjolras held him close as he tried to struggle away. Finally, Grantaire glanced up with a resigned look. 

“We’ve been fucking for months. But together? Face it Enjolras, I’m a mess, and you’re ashamed of me.” 

Enjolras bit his lip and furrowed his brow. Cautiously he began to speak, ‘Is that really what you think?” 

“Prove me wrong.” Grantaire bitterly spat back. 

*****

If there was one thing that Enjolras was good at, it was proving people wrong. Convincing them of the truth. But this ability seemed to allude him when it came to Grantaire. He fumbled for words. 

“See I knew, you had no answer.” Grantaire’s voice sunk to a quiet whisper, and his eyes held tight with hurt. 

Enjolras pulled him even closer. “Look at me in the eyes. Look.” 

Grantaire took a ragged breath and looked up. Clear blue eyes were staring back at him, not with the disgust that had begun to edge into Enjolras’ voice before, but with compassion. 

“You strike me speechless Grantaire. I don’t know what to say. Not because I have nothing to say, far from it, I just…can’t put it into words. Sometimes I want to shake you until you wake up from that fog and I want to scream at you and I tear my hair out because you are so damn confusing and I don’t know what you want and you get hurt by the slightest thing and I don’t know how to fix you.” Grantaire turned away dejected, but Enjolras stopped him. 

“But most of the time, I want you here, next to me. I want your hand to hold. Yours, not anybody else’s. And you know as well as I do that I have no idea what the hell we are doing together. But when we aren’t near each other, I miss the warmth of your hands, I miss the arguing, I miss your paint stained clothes and hell, even your stale cigarette breathe even though I hate cigarettes. I miss you..” He stopped for a breath, keeping his gaze steady. “Grantaire, I need you just as much as you need me. And for all the hell we put each other through, you keep me grounded. And I’m a better person, because of you. So you ask if I care about you at all? You ask why I give a fuck? It’s because I can’t, and won’t, imagine my bed, my whole life, without you in it. You’re mine and I am yours and I know I don’t tell you it enough. But I care about you Grantaire,” With that he stopped, even though he had so much more to say. 

Instead of words though, he finally pressed his chapped lips to Grantaire’s, tentatively as first, then comfortably. He could feel tears rolling down the other man’s face as he pulled away. 

“I am sorry Enjolras, I am so sorry.” He sucked in a breath and bit his lip. Then quieter, he let out a soft, “I love you.” 

“I love you too Grantaire. For better or worse.”


	4. Barricade Bitch

Grantaire was slumped over on the ratty couch, waiting for Courfeyrac to hurry up and find the tickets, when he heard the water turn on in the bathroom. Combeferre wasn't home, and unless Courfeyrac forgot that the game was in ten minutes, it definitely wasn't him. Which left only one person. 

He was lost in thought, imagining Enjolras—naked Enjolras— separated from him only by the flimsy wooden door leading to the bathroom, when his thoughts were interrupted by muffled noises coming from the bathroom. He couldn't understand the words, so he inched towards the door and placed his ear flat against the wood. All he could make out was some rather atonal humming when all of a sudden,

"I'm miss blood red, revolution lips"

Grantaire covered his mouth with the back of his hand to hold back the laughter when he realized what Enjolras was singing.

"Hit them with your black guns, hit them with your fists."

He kept listening, and didn't realize the water had been shut off. Enjolras continued,

"I'm miss blood red, revolution lips. I'm gonna be your barricade bitch. I'm gonna be your barricade bitch!"

The door swung open and knocked Grantaire to the floor. He looked up, to see Enjolras, hair still dripping onto his shoulders, a towel slung low over his hips.   
Grantaire sputtered, "I uh...I was just...well..." He gave up with a sigh, "barricade bitch? really?"

Enjolras' face flushed red before answering, "Marina's music actually lends itself quite well..."

Just then Courfeyrac stumbled back into the room, tickets in hand. "Let's go R, we're gonna be la...what the fuck." A grin spread across his face at the sight of the barely clothed Enjolras standing right above Grantaire, both men blushing. Courfeyrac had no qualms about laughing at either of them and could barely breathe as Grantaire dragged him out the door.

A few minutes later, Enjolras' phone buzzed. 

[Grantaire]: so that was  
[Grantaire]: interesting  
[Grantaire]: um  
[Grantaire]: i didn't realize you like marina and the diamonds  
[Grantaire]: i actually have an extra ticket to her concert next week if you want it  
[Grantaire]: but you probably should wear clothes this time  
[Grantaire]: or not

Enjolras felt his cheeks redden again, and quickly responded

[Enjolras]: Only if you wait for me on the couch when you come pick me up, instead of by the bathroom door.  
[Grantaire]: oh but then id miss the opener, enjolras and the revolutionaries  
[Grantaire]: so that's a yes?  
[Enjolras]: Yes, that's a yes. 

Grantaire flipped his phone closed.


	5. The ABC club

Grantaire meandered down the hallway, taking in the hundred or so clubs that had set up stands. Sign up sheets and flyers littered the ground. He stopped to talk to a few people, but mostly he just watched. Freshmen and a few sophomores ran around the crowded hallway, signing up for their future (or, what they would put on their college applications.)

As a senior transfer student, Grantaire was highly encouraged to come to the activity fair. His application was fairly bare, and his guidance counselor thought joining a club would be the perfect way to make friends. 

He continued down the hall, but was struck by the sight in front of him. A tall blond boy stood up on a chair, talking to the group of enthralled freshmen surrounding him. His hair was long and unruly, the afternoon sun creating a halo around him. Just as he began to walk forward, Grantaire was grabbed roughly by a dark hand.

"You’re not a freshmen, you were in my spanish class earlier today." A voice boomed in his ear. In fact, Grantaire did remember the distinctive voice, thick with some kind of accent, from earlier in the day. Bahorel the boy had introduced himself as that morning. 

Grantaire cleared his throat, “No, ah, I’m actually a new student and my advisor wanted me to join a club or something." He looked around Bahorel, to see if the golden boy was still there, but he had disappeared. 

Bahorel chuckled lightly, catching Grantaire’s attention again, “I know how that is, I moved here right before 10th grade. You should check out our club, it’s a political awareness organization, but it’s pretty badass. Last year we protested the cafeteria food and our president stood on one of the tables and led the entire school in a chant. He got suspended for it, but it was epic."

Grantaire perked up at the mention of a leader, “Is your leader that blond boy who was standing up there before?"

"Yeah Enjolras, he’s…intense. Seriously though, you should come to our meetings. After school on Wednesday. Be there, or else." Bahorel turned and handed Grantaire a pamphlet before walking away. 

"Oh don’t worry, I will be." he muttered under his breath.


	6. Pasta

Enjolras walked into the classroom (entering "ready and openminded" as Combeferre, his advisor, had suggested) and made his way over to the only empty table, before setting his bag down. The whole room smelt of garlic and tomatoes, a somewhat welcome smell, after months of ramen or cereal for dinner. 

The teacher walked in and greeted the class with a smile, “Alright everyone, today we will be starting off easy with a simple pasta dish. One of you can grab the ingredients while the other gets the dishes ready." 

"Excuse me, but I don’t have a partner. I’m Enjolras, I just transfered in to this class," He handed her the note from his advisor.

She glanced at it before turning around and gesturing to a ragged looking boy standing in the corner. He approached nonchalantly. She sighed, “Enjolras, this is Grantaire, my teaching assistant. He will be your partner." 

Enjolras eyed the boy standing in front of him. Ragged hair covering his dark eyelashes, skinny jeans and converse, a maroon beanie pulled over his head, stubble and red rimmed eyes. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed. 

Grantaire cleared his throat, “So are you just gonna stand there, or are we gonna cook something? I have a bottle of Jack Daniels waiting for me back in my dorm, so whenever you’re ready…" Enjolras glanced at him again, this time his glare was edged with distain. 

He was going to kill Combeferre.


End file.
